To You

You're dead and nothing can bring you back. And I wonder, as always, if it's over. As I pass by the graves with broken stones covered with moss and rust in the cracks and the remainder of a squirrel's body that worms are busy consuming, while I hear the sound of pigeons flying towards a new food source, an old lady with a bag of bread crumbs, I can see a new side of a life that has ceased to be what it was before and I hope you can see it too.